It's Buttman, Baby!
by alli-sun
Summary: After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that. Buttman slash.
1. Chapter 1

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

**A/N – **After watching dozens of episodes of South Park, I'm convinced that Cartman and Butters always end up in an oddly gay situation. So they deserve their "very own episode". ;)

* * *

><p>"Goddamn it!" Kyle cried, "my goddamn brother is trying to follow me to school…<em>again<em>!"

"Suck my balls."

"No, Ike, you can't come to school with me!"

"Yeah, go home you little dildo," Cartman recommended.

"Dude," Kyle said incredulously, "for the last time, don't call my brother a dildo!"

Completely unscathed, Cartman considered it for a moment before replying with, "Alright, go home you little semen-puking-asshole-dickhead." His head hit the snow before he knew it.

"Dude, sweet," Stan marveled at the skill with which Kyle whacked Cartman with his little brother.

"Yeah, check it out! Ready Ike? Kick the baby!"

"Don't kick the goddamn baby—"

"Kick the baby!"

As Cartman heaved himself up from the snow, he let out a great yawn. "Whoa Cartman, looks like you didn't get much sleep last night."

"That's because I was having these bogus nightmares all night long—"

"Wait!" Stan cried. "Guys, just wait a fucking sec!"

"Jesus Stan, can't you wait?" Cartman snapped. "Tell us about your own dream later, I was talking goddamn it!"

"No, don't you see? We're on repeat, _again_!" Stan insisted. "Pretty soon, Chef is gonna pull up, tell us what we're having for lunch, ask us about the aliens, and we're going to have to go on an elaborate journey into space to prevent the aliens from blowing up our planet in the process of cancelling our reality show, all through the giant anal probe in Cartman's ass!"

After long seconds of silence, Cartman spoke. "Dude…the fuck you talking about?"

"Well, that's what happened last time!"

"I have no clue what you're on, Stan, but I was actually going to say that Jews had taken over and the whole world had gone into flames."

"What?" Kyle cried in outrage.

"Yep, it was pretty awful. Jews ruining the government, Jews ruining the economy, and worse yet, Jews ruining the fast food industry—"

"That is such bullshit!"

"—but that's when it all got better!" Cartman continued, determinedly drowning out Kyle's voice with his own, "because that's when he came to me."

"…Who?" They all asked.

"Hitler, you dumbasses."

Kyle let out a strangled noise and began to pull on the flaps of his hat.

"Yes, once Hitler arrived out of the chaos and misery, he said something I understood quite well. You can't use force to get rid of the Jews, he tried as hard as he could, and it just didn't work. Bless his soul. But there is a much more powerful weapon, he told me, and I was the one who must do it. I am to kill off all the Jews—"

"Will you shut _up_, Cartman?"

"—through the power of biology!"

"…What?"

"Whah whe heh wo you wea?" Kenny demanded.

"What do you think I mean, Kenny? Kill off all the Jews with a pandemic, and all the minorities in the process, thus leaving a race of Aryans upon which to rebuild the world."

"DUDE!" Kyle roared. "Don't you get it? Does nothing get to that fat brain of yours? For one thing, you won't _be able_ to rebuild the world with Aryans! They're a subrace of Caucasians, there aren't enough of them around! YOU FAT, DUMB, FATASS DUMBASS!"

With that, Cartman, Stan, and Kenny watched as Kyle stormed off down the road. Just then, Chef pulled up in his car. "Hello there, children! Kyle, where you running off to? Oh well. Children, today it's—"

"Salisbury steak with buttered noodles, and a choice of green bean casserole, or vegetable medley," Stan deadpanned. "Not now, Chef, we're having an anti-Semitic genocidal crisis here."

"Oh. Okay."

"Hey Chef, you know where I can get any Aryans around here?" Cartman called.

"Isn't yo' little friend Butters Aryan?"

Cartman's eyes widened to incredible lengths. It was as if a wondrous light bulb had burst into light above his head, and the world to perfection was illuminated before him. "Oh. My God. Hitler, I know what I must do."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit."

* * *

><p>Butters had a squeaky clean, consistently disinfected locker. On the bottom shelf, he kept his books and binders in alphabetical order, like his dad said, and on the top shelf a change of clean clothes, a set of gym clothes, and a little packet of Kleenex tissues. He kept his allergy medicine in his right front pocket at all times, and on the left a small picture of him with his mom and dad.<p>

That morning, while he was standing in front of his neatly organized locker, fully prepared for school, Eric Cartman confronted him.

"Butters, dude, you gotta come with me right now."

"W-what?" He said, alarmed. "But class starts in three minutes!"

"Butters, you don't _understand_!" Cartman yelled, beginning to get aggravated. "We need to go _right now_, because I'm about to reveal my plan that will save the entire world from its ultimate destruction!"

"Well, golly, I didn't know that."

"That's right, so are you coming with me or not?"

"Butters, don't go with him," Kyle snapped from behind them. "He's just being a douche again."

"Ugh, are you serious?" Cartman growled. "Butters, Kyle's the one being a douche. He kicked his little kindergartner brother this morning."

"What?"

"Across the street!"

"What?"

"Into the snow!"

"W-w-what?" As Butters' anger grew, his stutter escalated as well. "Why, y-you ought to b-be ashamed-ed of yourself, Kyle! K-kicking around your little brother like th-th-that! H-he's just a little kid!"

"I know, right? What a terrible person."

"W-why on earth would you d-d-do that to someone so much weaker than yerself?"

"Taking advantage of your size and age, seriously, what an abusive person." Cartman began to whistle when Kyle averted his glare to him.

"You know what?" Kyle said. "I might be a sick, abusive, baby-kicking bastard, but what Cartman has in mind is much, much worse than anything I've ever done. So I'm warning you now, don't go along with his stupid plans, like some pussy. Like the pussy you've always been to him. Don't you let him fuck you, Butters. I'm telling you!"

"I think that's enough lines for you, Kyle, why don't you step aside and allow others to speak?"

"Urghhh!" Kyle yelled to no one in particular, stomping away. As the bell rang, Cartman turned to Butters, his gaze set.

"Well? What will it be?"


	2. Chapter 2

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

**A/N – **To clarify, their ages are as you see them on the show.

* * *

><p>Butters wasn't really sure how, but moments after their conversation in the hallway he found himself sitting on a baby blue exam table, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for someone to please, please tell him what was going on. When the door opened, he let out a sigh of relief. Oh, the doctor's here.<p>

"Hello young man," Cartman said in a calm, dignified voice. "How are you feeling today?"

"E-eric," Butters blinked. "Are you a doctor now?"

"When I need to be," Cartman replied smoothly. "Now, I will be performing a check-up on your condition. This will determine whether or not you're suitable for the job I have for you."

"Well, gosh, I hope I'm alright."

"First, I need to examine your eyes. Open 'em. Open 'em wide, Butters. C'mon! You can open 'em wider than that!"

"I'm doing the best I can!"

"Alright, fine, that's good enough. Let me see…" Cartman peered in, humming softly in thought as he studied the balls of Butters' eyes, and then pulled out a paint sample. "I see these are of a…sky blue hue. Perhaps even a more saturated maya blue. Very nice, very nice."

"My eyes are okay, doctor?"

"Yes, now I would need a hair sample."

"Why would you need s-something like that?"

"To figure out how healthy your hair is, retard," Cartman snorted. "And to make sure that's not _dyed_ blond. I know you thought you could trick me."

"Well, doctor, I—Ooouuuch!" Butters cried as Cartman yanked a sizeable clump of hair from the back of his head. "W-why, that was more than just one strand!"

"Who said I was just taking one strand?" Cartman said, bringing out the microscope. He dutifully placed the hairs on a medical slide with some drops of water and slid the other one on top, and now began to study Butters' hair most carefully under the lens. "My. God."

"What?" Butters cried. No literally, he was weeping just a little bit.

"Dude. You are fucking _perfect_." Cartman threw off his white lab coat, as well as his stethoscope, otoscope, tongue depressor, tape measure, and soon Butters watched unblinkingly as Cartman threw off his monthly allowance, flame thrower, guitar hero controller, bus pass, wad of membership cards, and a casa bonita key chain. He quickly picked up his monthly allowance though. "Alright, we need to go make a baby _right now_!"

With that, he rushed out the door. Butters stared down at his thumbs. "A baby? B-but I'm awful young to start having these sort of responsibilities—"

"Butters!" Cartman roared, "Get your ass over here, _now_!"

"Well, alright."

* * *

><p>The next day on the playground, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny found Butters reading a how-to book on parenting.<p>

"Wow," Stan observed, "Butters is really taking this thing seriously."

Kyle let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah, I can't believe it!"

Stan blinked. "…Dude. I know you're upset about what Cartman said—"

"Of course I'm upset!"

"—but that still doesn't mean you should hog all the lines to yourself."

"…What?"

"Yeah. Sometimes, you just need to step aside and allow other characters to speak out. Like Kenny here, he always has something to say."

"Wray righh whi wha ruwing wo way."

"See? I understand that what Cartman said can seem offensive, maybe even hurtful, but that doesn't mean that it's not true. Your angry Jew persona has taken up way too many lines. Sorry, dude, just telling it like it is."

"…Urrghhhh!" Kyle threw up his arms and yelled into the sky.

"Well, hiya fellas!" Butters called, looking up. "Kyle, you look awful angry."

"I'm. Fine."

"Yeah, so what are you doing, Butters?" Stan asked. "Did Cartman actually convince you to make a baby?"

"Well, sort of. He's still arguing with the hospital a-about whether we're allowed to or not. I wasn't sure what to do, with all this waiting around, so I decided to start reading this book," Butters patted the cover happily. "It's real interesting. Some of the stuff is awful wrong though. My dad never hesitated before yelling at me and calling me a-all sorts of things."

"Doesn't your dad also beat you and ground you for no reason?"

"'Course...don't your folks do that?"

"FUCK!" Cartman's voice carried over from the other side of the playground. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!"

"Uh-oh," Butters muttered, and they all watched as the door slammed open to reveal a red-faced, furious Cartman striding their way.

"Guys, can you believe it?" Cartman shouted. "The average test tube baby costs seventy-two-thousand dollars. _Seventy-two-thousand_! Where the fuck am I supposed to get seventy-two thousand dollars?"

"Oh," Butters looked at his book. "Gosh darn it. Well, I guess I won't be needing this anymore."

"Don't you chicken out on me, Butters!" Cartman snapped instantly, pointing his finger accusingly. "You're gonna father a bajillion little Aryan babies, if it's the last thing I do! So help me, Hitler!"

* * *

><p>From across the playground, the girls watched as Cartman yelled. "I wonder what's going on," Wendy wondered.<p>

"From the sounds of it, Cartman is trying to convince Butters to have a test tube baby with him," Bebe said. "A lot, actually. A bajillion test tube babies. How much is a bajillion again?"

"A lot."

"Ew," Red said, "why would anyone want to have a baby with Cartman?"

"I don't know," Bebe said, "I think it's kind of cute that Cartman seems so devoted to Butters as the father of his child."

"Hey, yeah!" Annie cried. "Do you think they're going out?"

"Ooh, maybe they're planning on getting married!"

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Is gay marriage even allowed in Colorado?"

"Who knows?"

"I think their bravery should be commended," Bebe said. "Girls, we should all show support for their baby. It is, after all…the Buttman Baby."

"Yeah…that makes sense," Wendy said slowly. "_Butt_ers. Cart_man_. Their baby would be a fat, blond Buttman!"

"To the Buttman Baby!" They all cheered, and clinked their juice boxes in agreement.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - Hands up if you caught that That's-What-He-Said.


	3. Chapter 3

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

**A/N – **Sort of a filler chapter; have to give information before plot twists. ;)

* * *

><p>When the doorbell rang, Mrs. Cartman was in the middle of baking a large chili macaroni casserole, with sprinkles on top. "Eric, honey? Could you get the—"<p>

"Mom, you know Butters," Cartman interrupted immediately, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a surprised-looking Butters standing next to him. "Butters, you know my mom, just not too well, I hope. Mom, could you bring dinner to my room later? We have stuff to talk about."

"Okay pumpkin. What about?"

"We need to figure out how we're going to make this baby, that's all."

"Aw, how sweet."

"Bye Mrs. Cartman!" Butters called as Cartman dragged him out of the kitchen. "W-why Eric, why can't we stay downstairs with your mom? She seems awful nice."

"Dude, don't you get it? My mom is a slut, you can't stay down there with her. If you do, you'd end up sleeping with her, and that's _gross_."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you would waste your precious semen on my mom and make some non-Aryan kid! That's disgusting!"

They entered Cartman's room without any more argument. "So, Butters, here's plan A. We rally for our right to create a test tube baby by making a big, public commotion about it. We'll travel around the country, make speeches, probably appear on national television, and we'll need buttons and banners for our cause no doubt. That should give us the seventy-two-thousand dollars from the nation's health insurance in no time. Or at least a helluva lot donations."

"I dunno, that sounds like an awful lot of work."

"It'll be worth it. We'll make Hitler proud."

"Wait, so if that's plan A, what's plan B?"

"We make seventy-two-thousand dollars by selling your body to perverted old priests and upper-class, single men."

"Oh…I like that first plan better, then."

"I thought you would."

A gentle knock came through the door. "Boys! I have your dinner ready."

"Okay, bring it inside, Mom. Butters, don't you dare look at her."

Mrs. Cartman set an enormous plate of casserole in front of Cartman ("with a tall glass of chocolate milk, jeez Mom can't you do anything right") and a considerably smaller slice in front of Butters. "There you go. Will you boys need anything else? Maybe some baby clothes, or some breast milk…"

"We goff if covwered, fanks Mom," Cartman said with his mouth full. "You cahn goh now."

"Alright dear. I think it's just so cute, that you two are playing house."

With that, she left with a little hum, as Butters stared after her and asked, "What's she talking about?"

"I have no clue, man. Hey, you gonna eat that crust?"

* * *

><p>When the school bell rang the next day, Mr. Garrison entered looking considerably more tired than usual. "Oh <em>man<em>, was all that really up my ass last night? Anyway kids, today we're going to be learning about—"

"Aryans," Stan said.

"…What?" Mr. Garrison blinked, rubbing his ass cheeks ever so slightly.

"Yeah, Aryans. I don't really get what they are. Cartman keeps saying they're these perfect people, but I've never really heard of them from anywhere else. And what makes them so much better than Jews, anyway?"

"I'm having trouble understanding you," Mr. Garrison frowned.

Stan took a deep breath. "Look, here's how I see it—"

"No, no, what I mean is...shouldn't Kyle be asking this question, and not you?"

"Oh. Earlier Kyle took up more than his fair share of dialogue."

"Hey!"

"Yeah, and he won't admit it," Cartman added.

"Okay, listen children," Mr. Garrison said. "The thing about Aryans is that they are completely unrelated to our current study of the formation of mountains and volcanoes. But if that's what you want to learn about, who the hell am I to tell you any different?

"People believe that Aryans were the original speakers of Indo-European languages, and that their descendents still live today as a sub-race of a larger Caucasian race. Nazis believed that they are actually ancestors of ancient Germanic tribes, furthermore believing that Germans today are direct descendents of Aryans. It is also commonly believed they have blond hair and blue eyes."

It was then when Cartman began to point not-so-subtly to Butters.

"But, it's actually no more than a myth that the Nazis were stupid enough to believe."

"What?" Cartman cried with jaw-dropping horror.

"You don't even have to be blond-haired and blue-eyed to be Aryan. Actually, I'm pretty sure they're Indian. Okay so now we can continue our lesson on—"

"Dude!" Cartman yelled. "Do you even know what you're talking about? You have a fucking Aryan _right here in front of you_!" Butters waved tentatively from his seat. "You call that Indian? _You call that Indian_?"

"What's the big deal, Cartman? Mr. Garrison just said Aryanism is just an idea," Stan said.

"It's not just an idea! It's my destiny! Populating the world with Aryans is the job that I was entrusted with! So shut the fuck up, you stupid Jew!"

Kyle groaned and rolled his eyes from his seat. "I didn't even say anything that time."

Cartman stood up suddenly, his enormous weight forcing his seat to bounce back as he did. "I know what I must do," He said solemnly.

"Eric?" Mr. Garrison said as he stormed out the door. "Eric Cartman, where the hell do you think you're going? You get back into your seat and listen about volcanoes _right now_, mister!"

_EXCUSE ME. EXCUSE ME, THIS IS ERIC CARTMAN SPEAKING._

"Jesus Christ, is that him on the loudspeaker?"

_I HAVE COME TO SPEAK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING. WE INTENDED TO KEEP IT PRIVATE, BUT NOW I KNOW WE MUST NOT QUIET OURSELVES ANY LONGER._

"Oh my God," Bebe whispered to Wendy. "I think he's proposing to Butters in front of the whole school!"

"That's so romantic!"

_YOUR GOOD FRIEND LEOPOLD BUTTERS SCOTCH AND I ARE WELL ON OUR WAY TO MAKING A PERFECT BABY, IN VITRO STYLE. _

"What the…" Mr. Garrison stared at the loudspeaker, shocked. Then he turned to Butters. "Is he serious?"

_BUT OUR INTOLERANT TEACHER MR. GARRISON HAS BEEN CONTINUOUSLY NEGATIVE, DISCOURAGING, AND ALL AROUND A BIG TURD. WE DEMAND THAT WE GET TERRIBLE TEACHERS LIKE HIM FIRED IMMEDIATELY. IMMEDIATELY! THANK YOU VERY MUCH. BY THE WAY I HEAR CHEF'S GOT A GREAT LUNCH COMING UP TODAY. THAT WOULD BE ALL_.

Cartman smirked as he turned the microphone off and removed the tape from the principle's mouth. "Thank you Principle Victoria. And with that, plan A is well under way."

"…Are you and Butters really planning on having a baby?"

"Of course we are, what, do you think I'd lie to the entire school?"

"Aw, that's adorable! Do you need any help? Some baby clothes? Or breast milk, maybe?"


	4. Chapter 4

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

**A/N – **Buttman's here. :D

* * *

><p>Later that night, Butters was pacing anxiously at their front door, waiting for Eric to obnoxiously ring the door bell. "Be brave, Butters," He said to himself, turning on his heel and then back again. "Bravery, Butters, show <em>courage<em>. Show _might_. Show—"

"Thanks for leaving the door unlocked, Butters," Cartman said cheerfully as he walked passed. "Now, shall we get down to business?"

Butters gaped as Cartman invited himself into the kitchen. "Aw, shucks."

By the time he'd walked into the tiled floors of his kitchen, Cartman had already laid out slogan ideas, banner outlines, lists of shows to appear on and people to write to, as well as five boxes of markers. "C'mon, Butters, I can't do this myself."

"E-eric," Butters stuttered, but then found that he couldn't continue.

"Damn it, what is it?"

_Be brave, Butters_. "Well, it's just that…what these girls at school were saying sorta…sorta got me thinking, is all," He admitted haltingly.

"Okay," Cartman said, staring at Butters and waiting for him to continue. When Butters didn't speak, Cartman sighed and said, "So? What did they say?"

"Oh!" Butters said. "That, uh, we make a cute couple, even if you're kinda fat—"

"Hey wait a sec! I'm not fat, I'm big-boned!"

"—a-and then they started giving me all their phone numbers and stuff, sayin' they were willing to babysit for us if we ever needed a break, you know. And that got me thinkin'…we're not a couple, are we?"

Cartman resisted the urge to slap himself in the face. "Stupid, _fucking_ girls…making up stories, calling me fat…listen Butters. We are, under no circumstances, a _couple_. That is the gayest thing I have ever heard of!"

"But…you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"'Cause, you know, all this working together and stuff, and baby-making business, that sounds all very couple-y to me…"

"Jesus Christ, shut up, Butters! You. And I. Are not. A thing!"

Butters' thoughtful expression immediately turned pouty. "Really?"

"Duh! Now stop looking at me with those goddamn perfect eyes of yours! Just because every time I need someone to go along with my elaborate plans, without complaint, especially without a big annoying argument like Kyle always puts up, you're always there saying 'o-okay Eric!' with those awesome eyes willing to do whatever the fuck I say, does _not _mean…" But Cartman trailed off on his own, now clutching his cheeks with a shell-shocked expression in his eyes.

"Um…Eric?"

"What's happening to me?" Cartman cried, voice trailing higher and higher as Butters stood there having no idea what was going on. "Shit, Butters, what are you doing to me? This is all your fault!"

"...Well, shucks! I haven't been doing nothing but a-asking you a few questions, is all!" Butters growled, or came as close to growling as he could. "I have just about had it with you, Eric! Always p-pushing me around, and stuff! I agreed to have this baby for you! Now you apologize right now…or you're sleeping on the couch tonight, mister!"

Cartman's lips curled with horror. "Oh God, oh no, it really is happening! I gotta get out of here!"

Butters stared as Cartman left all his supplies scattering to the floor as he leapt out Butters' front door. "Now, that's funny. That always works on Dad when Mom thinks he's making a fuss."

* * *

><p>It plagued Cartman all night. Dreams of Butters, his back to Eric, turning around with a beautiful baby in his arms. All pink and blonde, all perfect. But then…there were more. They were everywhere. Multiple Butterses, carrying their Aryan babies, turning around to look at Eric saying, "This is your baby too…yours too…it's our baby Eric…"<p>

"No," Cartman groaned, rolling over. "No, I'm just trying to appease Hitler! I don't want all these babies! They're not mine!"

"It's what you wanted," All the Butterses said contentedly, cradling the babies in their arms. And then they disappeared, leaving a lone figure in white.

"Hello?" Cartman called out into the distance. The figure didn't move. "Hello, can you hear me?"

He ran toward it, maybe this was the way out; but then the figure turned around. It was Butters—wearing a wedding gown.

"Oh God, no!"

"You're sharing this responsibility Eric," Butters said sweetly, edging nearer and nearer. As Cartman caught a glimpse of his gentle expression, and his even gentler eyes, he thought, well maybe this will be okay. But then suddenly fire spewed out of Butters' mouth, and he roared, "Either we're in this together, or you're sleeping on the couch, mister!"

"Nooo!"

"Eric!" A feminine voice cried as he felt someone shaking his shoulder. "Eric, sweetie, what's the matter?"

"H-huhh—Mom!" Eric startled into consciousness. "Mom, thank God, you saved me!"

"You were screaming in your sleep, dear. Were you having a nightmare?"

"…Don't be stupid, I'm too old for nightmares."

"Oh, alright," Mrs. Cartman said, making to turn around back to her room.

"Wait, Mom, don't go yet," Cartman suddenly insisted. "Um…so, hypothetically, if you were to have a baby with someone, even if it's maybe not _technically_ having a baby _with_ that someone, would that change your feelings for that certain someone? This is all purely hypothetical, remember."

"Well dear, usually when people make babies by accident, they end up hating each other and either getting the baby aborted or raising it in a crummy and unloving household."

"No, you're missing my point here. What if you chose that person specifically because you knew the baby would turn out like totally fucking awesome?"

"Then it sounds like you love that person very much, and want to start a family together."

Cartman's jaw dropped out. "Jesus Christ."

"This isn't about your friend Butters, is it?"

"Oh fuck no, Mom! This is definitely _not_ about that stupid dickwipe with the perfect eyes _Butters_! Now leave me alone and let me sleep!"

"If you say so," Mrs. Cartman sighed. "Young love, oh, I still remember those tender days in the fourth grade."

"Mom!"

"Alright dear, no need to make such a fuss."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Cartman let out a big yawn at the bus stop. "Whoa, Cartman, looks like you didn't get much sleep last night."<p>

"If you start all that again," Cartman said in an eerily monotonous tone, staring straight ahead, "I swear, I'll fucking break your legs and kill you with my face."

"Hey Eric?"

"The _fuck_ do you—oh. It's you." Kyle could've sworn he saw Cartman gulp as he turned to look at Butters.

"Listen, I just came here to drop off your stuff," Butters said, putting a large bag down on the sidewalk. "A-and that I'm sorry for hollering at you. I even made some real nice posters for our baby, and I called all those shows you had listed, and one of them wants us to be there tomorrow. So guess I'll see you then." Butters then took to standing there, as if waiting for Cartman to say something, but they both simply stared at each other, neither saying a word. "Oh…well, bye now."

As Butters walked away, Kyle took a closer look at Cartman's eyes. "Dude, are your pupils dilated?"

"Get the fuck out my face!"

"Shit, they totally are."

With a thud, the bag Butters just dropped off collided with Kyle's face.

"Ow," Kenny giggled, "whah owwa hurr."


	5. Chapter 5

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

* * *

><p>"Ro, whah wo you whuy wah wo woo?" Kenny asked, the three of them now sitting in Stan's living room.<p>

"I don't know," Stan shrugged, setting down a bowl of popcorn. "I thought we could watch Cartman and Butters on Tyra."

"Do we have to?" Kyle sighed. "I already hear enough of Cartman being a douche in real life. I don't need to hear it on television too."

"Yeah, but think about it this way, you also get to see him making a complete fool of himself on national television. In front of Tyra Banks, no less."

"Roo, whee whu-ing woh!"

"Eh...alright then. Kenny, what channel is it?"

"Wohree wih."

"Thanks. Oh hey, they're on right now."

There sat Cartman and Butters on the couch with Tyra Banks, except while Butters sat smiling at the camera and completely decked out in buttons that said things like _A World for Buttman_ and _Beautiful Buttman Baby_, Cartman simply sat staring, deadpanned, ahead. His eyes wide open. His mouth slightly agape in shock.

"You see, Miss Tyra," Butters' little television voice squeaked out. "It all started when Eric came up to me and said he wanted the p-perfect little baby. He asked if I would be the one to have it."

The audience immediately cooed in response. Tyra nodded her big head of hair. "Now, let me see if I understand this, you two boys are _nine-years-old_."

"Yes ma'am, but you already knew that."

"And you want to have a _baby_?"

"'Course! Why, all the girls at school are offering to baby-sit for us!" At that, the audience gave out another big, collective coo.

"But being nine years old, don't you think that's a little too young to have children?" Tyra asked. "You're little more than children yourself!"

"What do you mean, _little more_ than children?" Stan muttered in disbelief, his feet barely touching the floor from the couch.

"Well…" Butters said, twiddling his thumbs. "I suppose so. But you see, there's nothing Eric really wants more than anything else than for me to have this baby. I made a promise, so I'm going to keep it!"

"Eric?" Tyra said, tentatively prodding Eric with the microphone. "Do you have anything to add? Eric Cartman?"

"Why isn't he saying anything?" Kyle wondered. "This was all his idea."

Little did they know, that what was going on inside Cartman's head was a plethora of emotions, thoughts, and memories. Too many voices, each telling him to do a different thing, pulling him in a different direction. But through the chaotic shower of confusion in his mind, Butters' determined voice suddenly broke free. _I made a promise, I'm going to keep it!_

"Butters!" Cartman yelled suddenly.

"Eh, what?" Butters blinked. "I'm right here."

"Butters," Cartman repeated, completely ignoring Tyra, "being with you these last couple of days…this experience has made me realize, maybe I have been using you. Maybe I have been a complete asshole to you since preschool. And maybe you are nothing more than a queer lil' fag."

"What?" Kyle cried, outraged. "Okay, yes that's true, but how could he say all that on national television?"

"But I'm willing to change all that, so that we can raise this baby together. It's not just your genes. And it's not just my master plan to rule the world. It's…our baby. Our responsibility. And…" Cartman took a deep breath, then took Butters' hand into his own. "If you're ready, I'd like to you take me back. So we can do this together."

By this time, Butters had turned a shade of bright raspberry red, and the audience had melted into a gooey pile of the adorable-ness of it all. "I can't believe what I'm hearing!" Tyra announced. "These two boys are _actually_ planning on having a ba—"

"Will you shut up, you old hag?" Cartman snapped. And with that, the commercials started rolling.

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny sat staring at the TV in shock. "Dude," Stan croaked. "Did I just hear…Cartman say…"

"I think I'm gonna puke," Kyle said, voice muffled behind his hand. And he did.

* * *

><p>To say it was absurd would be an understatement. Butters now waited at the bus stop with them in the mornings ("Gee, I'm so glad to be back ever since that time you guys dumped me as your replacement for Kenny!"), sat next to Cartman in class ("Will you two lovebirds stop passing notes in class?"), got lunch with Cartman ("Of course I did five chocolate cakes, one of them's for Butters!"), and was on the receiving end of nearly all the feminine attention in the school ("Oh my God, you two are just too cute. Would you like any help? Like I dunno, baby clothes? Breast milk? I know I've got a little in there!").<p>

Frankly, it was weirding them out just a little too much.

"You know, I keep trying to remind myself that, hey, at least Cartman's not being a bigoted asshole anymore. Not outwardly, anyway," Kyle said to Stan while they were at their lockers after school. "But…watching those two…"

"Dude, I know what you mean."

"Hey guys, what's up?" Cartman, sounding awfully cheery, now stood next to them with an equally happy Butters in his arms.

"Uh, well—"

"Cool, sounds super cool," Cartman interrupted. "We were just on our way to the library to write our last speech. We're just going to give it in front of Congress, no big deal. It should earn us the winning vote to get the money we need for our baby. Would you be interested in helping us out?"

This time, Stan seemed on the verge of puking, especially when Butters tilted his head and cuddled Cartman's fat neck like that. Thankfully, Kyle stepped in. "No. We don't want in on your stupid plan."

The look on Cartman's face dropped immediately. With narrowed eyes, he said dangerously, "What did you say?"

"We said no! We're sick of watching you two being a lovey and gross with each other when clearly it's just a ploy to fool everyone into thinking you're the most adorable couple ever so that you'll win the money to make your stupid Hitler baby!"

"Eric," Butters said, "Eric, that's not true, is it?"

Kyle blinked. Twice. "Of course it's true!" he cried. "Butters, don't you remember anything about the old Cartman? The Cartman that dressed up as a robot to discover all your dirty secrets, or the Cartman that made you pretend to be a girl so you could steal the girls' future-telling device—"

"That mission was actually very important, and Butters pulled it off flawlessly," Cartman said stoutly.

"My point is, how could you possibly bring yourself to trust him, after all that?"

"W-well, that's easy!" Butters said, brightening up immediately. "Last night we had a neat-o sleepover at his house, and his mom baked us all kinds of treats! And later, he tickled me real funny in my pants—"

"Aw, fuck," Stan muttered, and puked all over the floor.

"Alright, that's enough," Cartman exclaimed. "Butters, come on, let's leave these immature assholes. We have some serious business to do."

"Bye, fellas!"

That left them alone, in the hallway, with Stan's puke dripping of his chin. They stared at each other in brain-curdling shock. "Dude…"

"…tickled him real funny in his pants?" Kyle deadpanned, quot- and unquoting with his fingers.

"I know right! How disgusting is that?"

"That's the worst!"

* * *

><p>Kyle took a deep breath, and then stepped forward.<p>

"To be or not to be—that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to allow someone as naïve and stupid as Butters get trapped in Cartman's web, or to face the fatass' wrath by opposing it. Who am I to say their love is wrong, or isn't real? But this is Cartman we're talking about. He is the biggest douchebag in the universe, and that is clearly proven by the lengths he is going to wipe out all the Jews, that is, by going gay and dating Butters. To watch, to burn, to puke at their disgusting PDA—no more. I must put an end to this, for whether Cartman's being open about it or not, he will always be a Jew-hating Nazi-wannabe. And better he be out in the open about it than hiding it by...tickling Butters...in the pants...BLEGHH!"

With that, Kyle puked in his bathroom sink, and stepped down. He nodded to his own reflection in the mirror. "You made the right decision, Kyle."

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - Here's a poll - Do you think Cartman is telling the truth to Butters, or like Kyle do you believe it's simply a facade? Leave your answers in the reviews. ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary** – After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning** – everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer** – South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

* * *

><p>"…<em>This<em> is America. _This_ is where dreams come true, no matter how big or small, no matter how daring and wild, this is the place for it."

Cartman's voice boomed fearlessly into the microphone into the ears of hundreds, thousands counting those listening on television. "Where did it go? Where did Tom Sawyer's charming white picket fence go? Maybe you should ask this of yourselves; why you would deprive two little boys of their American dream, like a bunch of hateful terrorists! What exactly is the difference between you and bin Laden, I ask you? _He's_ dead, that's what! He can't harm us anymore, but _you_ still can!"

His voice had been escalating steadily, but at this point, Cartman took a deep breath, then said sweetly, "Unless, you find it within yourselves to help us raise our seventy-two thousand dollars. Then maybe, just maybe, the dream isn't lost." He paused to wipe away a tear. "I love you, America! I won't give up on you!"

As the applause went up, Cartman made his way back to his seat, next to which Butters sat looking jubilant. "That was great, Eric!"

"'Course it was great."

"Especially the part with the terrorists!"

"And now," a grave voice spoke, shown to be John Boehner at the podium, "we shall hear the opposition's rebuttal."

This startled Cartman out of his happiness. "Hey, wait what? Rebuttal? Dude, what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry kid," Boehner said out of the corner of his mouth, eyeing the cameras nervously. "This is the program; I'm just doing my job."

"Yeah, well you suck." Boehner's lower lip trembled. "Big time."

With that, he burst into tears and ran to the bathroom. This seemed like nothing new, and nobody in the room reacted. That's when Cartman caught sight of who exactly was going to rebut him. "Aw, fuck. _Kyle_?"

Wearing a brown suit and a considerably cleaner lime green hat, Kyle pointedly ignored Cartman's outraged protests as he took the stand. "Vice President Biden, Speaker Boehner, senators and members of the House, honored guests, I thank you for receiving me today. I've come to tell you exactly why you should not let Eric Cartman and Leopold 'Butters' Scotch have an IVF baby together."

"This is bullshit," Cartman hissed, "Bullshit I tell you! Just like at his bullshit Jew hat!"

"The controversy surrounding this case so far has simply been a matter of age and gender. 'Are we prepared as a nation to allow two nine-year-old boys make and raise a baby?' you ask. But what if I told you there was something more? What if I told you," Kyle took a remote control out of his pocket to let down an enormous flat screen TV from the ceiling, "about this?"

The image was of Cartman, dressed as Hitler, and leading an angry mob. Though this was nothing new to South Park, it apparently was to Congress. A collective gasp ran through the audience like wildfire. "You see, I've known this boy nearly my whole life, and I can tell you from firsthand experience that he is the most anti-Semitic and manipulative individual with a Hitler complex that you will ever meet."

"Damn it! Butters, cover your ears!"

"...But I already know all this."

"Oh, right."

"What would someone like Cartman want with a baby, you ask? Well, just take a look at this." Kyle pressed another button, and a huge image of Butters waving at the camera appeared. "Our friend Butters is what Nazis believe to be the 'ideal race'. That is, Caucasian with blond hair and blue eyes. An _Aryan_. Unfortunately, Butters is also a complete pussy who tends to listen to and do whatever Cartman says."

"Shut up, Kyle! Jeez Butters, don't listen to this!"

"I already knew that too, though."

"For this reason, it is all too clear to me what is really going on. Cartman is taking extreme measures to populate the world with people like Butters. And the first thing he needs, is Butters. So he fooled you all, including Butters, into thinking that they are in a loving relationship, in order to carry out his plan." Kyle took a deep breath, then added as a side-note, "The only thing I don't get is why he's going through all this trouble to make one baby. I don't understand why he wouldn't just recruit all the Aryan people in the world into one area and start making babies the normal and much cheaper way. But I guess he's just stupid like that."

After Kyle finished his speech, he was met with deafening silence. Nobody, it turned out, knew what to say to all that. And when someone asked where John Boehner was, it turned out he was still crying in the bathroom. So really, no one knew what to say.

Except Butters. "Well, that's easy!" He said. "You can't just force people to make babies. They have to be in love first."

Back at home, Stan puked into his cereal bowl.

* * *

><p>All this time, it seemed like Butters has gotten off punishment easy from his parents. That would be because his parents have been out of town, and their next-door neighbor was responsible for checking in on Butters and cooking his meals. As the next-door neighbor is also an alcoholic cat-hoarding woman, it goes without saying that Butters has been able to run wild lately.<p>

That is, until his father called. "Butters? Butters, what's this we heard about you on the news? You're having a _baby_ with Mrs. Cartman's son?"

"Well, uh-"

"Don't you _well, uh-_ me! What have we told you about your bicuriosity, Butters? It's fine as long as you keep it a secret for the rest of your life! Now look at you! You're all over the news and everything! Your face was shown in front of the entire Congress! Do you know how embarrassing that is, as a father?"

"Sorry, Dad."

"That's right, you better be sorry. Now I have to explain to all the guys at work why my son is shacking up with mini-Hitler. I hope you're proud of what you've done. Your mother and I will be back in just a moment. And then you're _grounded_, mister." And he hung up.

Butters' face hit the table. "Aw shucks," he muttered into the wood. It was hard having a boyfriend.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Cartman had just finished his nervous breakdown, and was now knocking on Kyle's door. Ike was the one who answered. "What are you doing here, fatass?"<p>

"Dickwipe," Cartman said sullenly. "Where the fuck's your brother?"

Kyle appeared behind his brother in no time. "Ike, go play with your dinosaurs or something." After Ike left with a wry glance at Cartman, Kyle turned to him and asked, "What are you doing here, fatass?"

Cartman narrowed his eyes. "Well, I hope you're happy. I hope you're goddamn, rolling-in-fucking-Jew-gold happy. You just found me out."


	7. Chapter 7

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

**A/N – **It gets slightly weird. Bear with me here (it is South Park, after all).

* * *

><p><em>Last time on South Park…<em>

Kyle revealed to Congress and half of America that Cartman had a severe psychological Hitler complex and should be dealt with accordingly.

Butters' gay relationship was threatened to be destroyed by his equally-bicurious-if-not-much-more-so father.

And Cartman called Kyle a Jew for the fifteen-thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty-second time. Now, we return to their argument, where Cartman is prepared to confess everything.

Everything.

* * *

><p>"I knew it!" Kyle cried triumphantly, pointing his finger at Cartman accusingly.<p>

"Of course you knew, but I didn't think you'd say anything!" Cartman sputtered madly.

"Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"I mean, I didn't think you'd actually _say_ that I'm going to weirdly great lengths to have just this one baby with Butters, even when forcing all the Aryans in the world into one area to make multiple babies is totally more my style."

"That's right, I caught you red-ha—wait, what?"

"So thanks a lot, Kyle!" Cartman nearly screamed. "I have a reputation to maintain, you know? Jesus Christ, now everyone's gonna think I'm soft! Before, at least people would _think_ that I was only being nice to Butters because they thought I was using him. Now they know! Now they all know! And it's entirely _your fucking fault_."

Kyle seemed to have momentarily lost the ability to speak, but once he finished processing what Cartman said, he was able to regain some semblance of communication. "So…let me get this straight…you pretended to be an asshole by...not being an asshole?"

Cartman thought about it for a second. "I think you could more accurately describe it as me unintentionally not being an asshole and intentionally pretending that was me being an asshole, all the while being an asshole by not admitting that I wasn't an asshole but wanted to be seen as an asshole anyway, overall adding to the effect of—"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Kyle interrupted quickly. "Now my head hurts."

"It's all about layering, you see."

"So," Kyle said slowly, "you actually do like Butters? It's not just some stupid plot to rule the world?"

Cartman blinked, and then laughed accordingly. "Oh Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, you don't know the half of it. You think Butters was part of my big Nazi scheme? You'll have to realize, it was the other way around."

"…What?"

"Follow me."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Butters was having no luck whatsoever.<p>

"We can't leave you alone for one second, can we?" His father roared as he loomed above him in his mighty daddy scariness. "We just can't trust you at all, Butters! The minute we turn our backs, you're off trying to take over the world!"

Butters blinked, then sighed and looked at his toes. "Yeah…"

"Now you listen here! You are forbidden from seeing that Eric Cartman ever again! Do you hear me?"

Butters' head shot up, eyes widening in disbelief. "But Dad!"

"_Do you hear me_?"

Three broken glasses, a thrown fruit basket, and a punch in the wall later, Butters lay wailing into his sheets, for his parents had grounded him. Again. This time for the next six months, forever if you count coming into contact with Eric Cartman. As he sullenly changed into his pajamas, he thought he heard a noise from the closet.

_TROUBLE. ALWAYS EXPERIENCING SO MUCH TROUBLE._

"W-what?" He squeaked. "Who's that?"

_WHY, IT'S ME, BUTTERS. DON'T YOU REMEMBER ME?_

Slowly, he peered into the sliding doors, only to see the glint of aluminum foil. "Professor Chaos! Is that you?"

_CORRECT YOU ARE! NOW, ARE YOU READY TO WREAK HAVOC ON THOSE WHO HAVE CAUSED SO MUCH TROUBLE FOR YOU!_

"I don't think that's a good idea, Professor Chaos. It's way passed my bedtime."

_FOOL! DON'T YOU SEE? YOU WILL ALWAYS EXPERIENCE PAIN AND SUPPRESSION. YOU MUST LEARN TO FIGHT BACK! FIRST, YOUR FATHER, ALWAYS PUNISHING YOU. _

"True," Butters muttered forlornly, "very true..."

_YOUR MOTHER, ALWAYS MAKING YOU EAT ICKY STUFF YOU DON'T WANT._

"Especially when it's o-one of them funny-looking pills she makes me swallow..." Butters continued, voice becoming darker and darker.

_AND FINALLY, THAT DAMNED ERIC CARTMAN—_

What?" Butters cried, snapping out of it. "N-now you just wait a second!"

_HUH? _He sounded affronted.

"I don't want to hear another word," Butters lectured. "Eric might be a mean ol' thing sometimes, and s-sure he makes fun of me a lot, but I admire him so much! He's smart, and funny, and he always has the best kinda food! He-he's like the symbol of freedom, he can stand up to anybody, he can tell anybody what to do! And even if my dad won't let me talk to him ever again, I sure as heck won't do anything bad to him! He would never deserve that!"

* * *

><p>"So, basically, you like Butters because he's pretty, he likes doing chores, and he does whatever the hell you say," Kyle blanched. "Like a <em>housewife<em>?"

"Seeing as he's also got the biggest weiner in the grade, I figured that once averaged out into shared penis sizes mine is a healthy 1.9."

Kyle slapped himself in the face. "I can't believe I'm hearing this…"

The two were sitting in Cartman's basement, sitting at opposite ends of the table with a stack of papers between them. Cartman had poured them some ice water, and was calmly drinking his own as he watched Kyle beat himself up in disbelief.

"Cartman," Kyle began again, "don't you realize that you like Butters for all the wrong reasons? You think he's pretty because he's Aryan! You like his personality because you're a manipulative asshole! And all of this started right after your stupid dream! Do you even look at yourself and think you're making any sense?"

Putting his ice water down, Cartman took the time to slowly raise an eyebrow in amusement, and then pulled in the stack of papers to straighten them out with a small _tap. _"All me to explain. At first, I had no idea what the fuck was going on. It was like, why Butters? Why the douche with the funny hair? But then, I began reflecting upon myself, looking inward. I realized that it made sense that I'd seek a male partner, for without a father, my life is empty, bare, vacant. The Oedipus complex—"

"Do you even know what that is?"

"—shut your trap and let me finish—the Oedipus complex didn't apply to me because I had no father to kill, and why the fuck would I want to sleep with my mom? I suppose I will always want what I can't have." Cartman flipped to another sheet. "And Butters...Butters was always there for me, mostly because he was too gullible to say no to my genius, albeit far-fetched, ideas. I always thought it was just me manipulating him and his totally not noticing. But it just...changed. The minute it sounded like we were doing something together." Cartman flipped to yet another sheet, and then coughed awkwardly. "Plus I think I sorta liked him sometime between putting his penis in my mouth and when we went to Super Phun Thyme and he wouldn't let go of my hand_—_"

"You did what? When were you two at Super Phun Thyme together?"

"_Anyway_," Cartman snarled loudly, "I knew that if Butters didn't actually like me, he'd be too stupid to notice, so of course I had to think of some way to keep him. That's when I realized, a baby, just between the two of us, would play up his maternal instincts. Throw in ruling the world alongside me, and that basically sealed the deal. He was mine."

Kyle gaped. _Dude, _he thought, _I always knew Cartman was messed up, but not to this extent._

"But now that you know my secret," Cartman finished menacingly, as the sun slowly set on his darkening face, "you realize I just can't let you go. I will have to kill you."

The basement door shut closed on cue. Kyle whirled around in shock. He had nowhere to go.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** - So all weirdness aside on Cartman's part, I wanted to provide a small character study on how they could genuinely like each other. I hope their complementary forces make sense. Also, Cartman might indeed like Butters for all the wrong reasons, but he sure knows how to treat him. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**It's Buttman, Baby!**

**Summary – **After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

**Warning – **everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language; and now really cute gayness!

**Disclaimer – **South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

**A/N – **I'd like to thank everyone who tagged along for the adventure, reading and reviewing my mad schemes. You guys are great. :D

Also, I believe I should explain the slight change in Cartman's character. Since he's my absolute favorite character, I've given him perhaps a bigger heart than he actually has, in the form of confidence and sympathy. This allowed him to have an open relationship with Butters. Whether the canon!Cartman could do the same, I think not, but with the soft spots he's shown in the series I think he has potential. So I exploited it. ^^

Furthermore, here's some long-overdue credit to the idea I completely stole. Perfect by Tweek Tweekers turned my light interest in Buttman into a full-out shipping. You should definitely consider reading it, it's adorable.

Maybe I'll write more South Park fanfiction in the future. Like an explanation for why Stan is so in love with Wendy or a focus into Ike's dark, Canadian past. For the time being, however, this is the end. Give the Buttman baby lots of love!

* * *

><p>"Cartman…" Kyle said slowly, barely breathing, hanging on to Cartman's every move as he felt himself backing away against the wall. "Cartman…I know what you're thinking…don't do it…"<p>

There was a maddening glint in Cartman's eyes as he pulled out an MP 40 (and what a suitable gun for Cartman, Kyle thought dully) and made his way to Kyle. "I've wanted to kill you for a long time. Now's my chance. I can't have everyone knowing I'm totally gay for Butters."

"Everyone already knows!"

"They all think it's fake! You thought it was fake! And that was fine, that was all fine until you called me out on it! Now you have to die! I have no choice!" Cartman took a deep breath, and grinned. "In fact, I think I'm gonna enjoy this. Finally get to shoot the Jew down. With a Nazi gun."

"Oh brother," Kyle muttered, half-terrified, half-incredulous.

"Say hi to Jesus for me, I hope you beg for his forgiveness…" Cartman loaded the gun. He began to take aim slowly.

"Stop!" A high-pitched voice from upstairs called, banging on the door frantically. As he listened to the voice more, a change seemed to come over Cartman. "Eric, I know what you're about to do! Don't kill Kyle, please!"

"Butters?" He sputtered in disbelief. "Is that you? What are you doing here?"

"I sorta, um, ran away from home."

That, as everyone knew, was unheard of. Butters Scotch didn't break rules; that is, unless the four of them forced him to, and here he was pounding on Cartman's basement door after his father had told him never to see the boy ever again.

"Please, don't kill Kyle."

Cartman growled. "Damn it, why not? It's my house, my rules. And this Jew is dead meat!"

It began to sound like Butters was having a panic attack on the other side of the door (no doubt the combined influence of disobeying his father and listening to Cartman threatening to shoot someone). Kyle knew this was a far shot, but he might as well try. "This is your chance, Cartman," he whispered shakily.

Cartman blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"This is your chance to prove yourself," Kyle continued. "Do you love Butters more than you hate me? Because if you do, if you really do like you said you did, the decision should be easy. Do you love Butters more than you hate me?"

The gun began to tremble. Butters could be heard sniffling sniffling. Cartman breathed slow and deep. Kyle watched and waited. This was more than Cartman's chance. It was his only chance.

When Cartman looked him dead in the eye and slowly began to raise the gun to eye level, Kyle knew he was done for, and damn it _why_ did he ever believe that Cartman would love anyone more than he hated a Jew, when suddenly—

—the gun fell on the floor. Kyle stared. Cartman had thrown it away. He now refused to meet Kyle in the eye.

"You better not tell anyone about this," He warned gravely, "or else I really will pop your head off."

"Not a soul will know," Kyle smiled, watching as Cartman turned around without another word to unlock the door. He heard a distant "shit, Butters, you made a puddle on my floor" and then "whatever, you can hide in my room, your dad can kiss my ass for all I care".

Maybe Butters did idolize Cartman a bit too much, and wishes he were him sometimes. And maybe Cartman does need someone to suit his superiority issues and controversial aesthetic beliefs. But Kyle realized, it's okay if those two have the most skewed way of viewing the world he's ever seen, because they can view it that way together.

"Actually, no," Kyle glared at the screen. "I'm just happy I'm alive, you dumb bitch."

* * *

><p>EPILOGUE<p>

"Hello everyone," Stan said pleasantly. "Kenny wanted to read the epilogue, but for whatever reason none of the rehearsal audiences could understand him. So I'm here to take his place.

"After Kyle went home unharmed and Butters ate more of Mrs. Cartman's home-cooking, Cartman called the police on Butters' dad and told them a story, some true and some not, that put him in a psychiatric ward and under the supervision of a parenting counselor, with an assistant that would tase him up the ass upon request. Butters is currently living a much freer life, and is enjoying it way too much for his own good.

"Lady Gaga got wind of the Buttman story and decided to pay for the baby herself, being a huge supporter of LGBTQ rights and a huge weirdo herself. Cartman located some random chick from Swiss countryside to be the carrier, and since he's Cartman he spent nine months talking to her about the merits of an all-Aryan world, so now she's completely Americanized _and_ brainwashed.

"Furthermore, Kenny still hasn't died in this episode, something we all should be very proud of. Now, let's look at the baby being born."

The scene zoned in on a crisp white hospital bed, surrounded by a group of now-fifth graders, along with Cartman's mom who looked bursting with happiness ("I have a grandson, oh my poopsikins has made me so happy!") and Butters' dad, who looked severely traumatized.

"It's perfect," Cartman said in awe, as he watched the baby being passed on to Butters. With hair so light it was nearly white, and skin pinched with a fresh pinkness, everyone had to admit it really was the most adorable thing they had ever seen.

"Look at you, you're so cute!" Butters cooed, wrapping his own little arms carefully around the blanketed figure, where it seemed to settle happily. "Loo loo loo, who's the cutest in the world? Loo loo loo, you're the cutest in the world! Oh, Kenny, you want to hold him? Alright!"

But the minute Butters extended his arms, the baby seemed to recognize the change in bodies, for it grabbed the sharpest medical tool it could find and stabbed Kenny in the face. Butters stared in horrified shock at the bloodied mess at his feet, and then slowly took the baby back near his chest. It calmed immediately. "Y-you killed Kenny," Butters whispered at his own son.

That's when Cartman burst into laughter. "Oh man! This baby is sick! It's gonna be the most badass thing you ever saw!"

Stan and Kyle exchanged glances, then sighed collectively. "We might as well let him have this one happy ending," Stan said. "We know that he's gonna completely fail as a father and he and Butters are gonna break up once they go to college."

"I hear you, dude," Kyle nodded in agreement. That's when they saw Cartman pull Butters in for a final kiss, and they both puked up their breakfast of scrambled eggs. Which, it turns out, comes out much the way it goes in.

"Sorry," Stan said weakly when Cartman turned to glare at them. "Guess we're still not used to it."

CUE MUSIC


End file.
